Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [168]
I felt as though mine were.
"I'm sorry!" I cradled her head in my lap, wrapping my arms around her. I felt awful and there was nothing I could say to make it better, no words of comfort I could speak. All I could do was hold her until the worst of the storm had passed. "I'm so very sorry. Jehanne, I don't want to leave you. I don't."
She sniffled. "But you are."
"Yes," I said softly.
She grew still and quiet in my arms. "I knew. I always knew you would. I just didn't think it would be so soon, Moirin."
"Neither did I."
A fresh bout of weeping shook her. "I thought you'd stay at least until the child was born!"
I closed my eyes, hot tears leaking beneath my lids. "So did I. I'm sorry!"
"I know," Jehanne murmured when she could talk again. She gave a sad, lost laugh. "At least as an adept of Cereus House, I'm taught to revere the transient nature of beauty. This was a fleeting and precious thing."
I stroked her hair. "You'll take another companion now that you know it suits you."
"Oh, please!" It was a relief to hear a cross edge to her voice. "Will you insult my intelligence? Surely it hasn't escaped your notice that there isn't anyone else like you in the world."
"No." I kissed her tear-damp cheek. "But you don't need a half-breed Maghuin Dhonn witch to serve as your companion. You just need someone you like well enough to trust." I smiled despite my aching heart. "Some gorgeous young creature from the backwoods with a generous soul, a good deal of patience, and buckets of untutored ardor." At that, Jehanne smiled a little, too. "You'd like the lass who tended my father," I told her. "The woodcutter's daughter, Sophie. Kind and sweet, very beautiful, and very, very untutored."
"Oh?" She peered up at me.
"Aye." A sharp pang of jealousy shot through me at the thought of the woodcutter's daughter in Jehanne's arms. "You needn't look that interested."
"I'm not." She sat upright. "Oh, Moirin! It's not that easy to trust anew."
"You gave me your trust willingly enough," I reminded her.
Jehanne took my hand, twining her fingers with mine. "There was already a bond of trust between us. You took a considerable leap of faith when you let me rescue you. It made it easier to return the favor." She paused and searched my face, her blue-grey eyes earnest and vulnerable and as bright as stars. "Do you love me at least a little bit?"
I couldn't help it; I laughed. And I wept, too. "Do you truly have to ask? Yes, Jehanne, a thousand times, yes. You're absurdly beautiful, utterly infuriating, and inexplicably charming, and I love you far, far more than you deserve."
"Good." She put her arms around my neck, smiling at me through her tears. "Tell me more, please."
I did.
I pulled her close and kissed her over and over, and I told her everything I loved about her—decent and indecent.
And this, too, felt like a benediction.
Naamah had turned her face away when I begged her to let me stay. Now that I had accepted my fate, she turned it back to me for a fleeting moment in time.
To us.
Whatever else was true, Naamah's blessing was on this union. Desire rose like a tide in my blood, driving out weariness and hunger, overriding sorrow, holding even destiny at bay. An answering passion rose in Jehanne—Naamah's gift, rising in a golden spiral, entwining with mine. At some point, I helped her rise from the floor, tugging her hand and urging her into bed, unlacing her stays and stripping off her gown and underclothes. Beneath the hanging fronds, Jehanne kissed me fervently, her tongue urgent in my mouth.
"This," I whispered. "This, and this, and this, I love."
This was her breasts, grown larger with the babe in her womb, a faint tracery of blue veins showing beneath her translucent skin. I suckled at her breasts, drawing on her rose-pink nipples, never wanting to stop.
This was the sweet juncture of her thighs, between which I was happy to lose myself, coaxing creamy nectar from her cleft. I licked and